


As the Leaves Fall

by joyoxt1



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: City love, Domestic, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reunited and It Feels So Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28420062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyoxt1/pseuds/joyoxt1
Summary: "Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go." -Unknown.Another cliché slow burn romance. Akaashi Keiji is visiting the city on a job assignment. Kozume Kenma has lived in this city his whole life. One mid-September evening after alcohol, sweets, and cut-glass backstory reveals, they begin to develop feelings. How fast can they fall before the week will end? How much time will pass before they see one another again?A/N: I do not own any Haikyuu characters. Copyright belongs to Furudate Haruichi.A/N: Rated M for explicit language, trigger warnings, maybe lemons.A/N: This work of fiction is also posted on my Wattpad account under @joyoxt1.Date began: 12/21/20Date ended: 12/29/20
Kudos: 2





	As the Leaves Fall

**Author's Note:**

> -Lines marked [insert speech] are internal thoughts. I didn't know how to italicize them.   
> -Hanayo is a fictitious work I created for fill-in. :) She's an OC, I guess? Really just there.   
> -This story is for a Twitter mutual who greatly inspires me. They know who they are. Salamat sa pagiging isang inspirasyon at suporta sa aking kwento, Pinahahalagahan kita! 
> 
> A/N: Hi! Before you begin reading, I would like to thank you for choosing this piece. Maybe you're an Akaken shipper. Maybe you're bored. Maybe you like cliche tropes like me. Whatever the reason is, I really am grateful for the chance to write this during the final days of a messy year. This story relieved some of my stress, so maybe it will too for you? Enjoy^^ Toodaloo~ <3 joy

Everything had happened so fast.

It should not have been so soon. It should not have been a national incident. It should have been him instead. Kozume Kenma was nineteen when he saw them die on the television news. The plane they had boarded on that morning exploded shortly after takeoff, crashing into the Mediterranean Sea. No one could have survived, and Kenma's parents were no exception. 

Blink. He dropped out of college. Blink. His childhood home burned down. Blink. Distant relatives resolve the matters without him. Blink. A year later. Blink. A new apartment. Blink. A new job. Blink. Until.

Nothing had changed all his life.

For as long as he could remember, the home he had was always temporary. His mother left them after six years with no explanation. His father decided to raise him while gallivanting around the world to make a living. Akaashi Keiji had never settled down anywhere for longer than a month since the age of seven. With his life moving so rapidly, he began to feel the monotonous pattern of constant movement and after his eleventh birthday, change turned to consistency.

Step. He's graduating from college. Step. His father stopped keeping in contact. Step. He finds a job. Step. An assignment. Step. In the city. Step. It's only a week. Step. Until.

🍂

Kenma awakes in the middle of the night. Another nightmare haunts his sleep state, filling the deepest cracks of his psyche with unspeakable horrors. His body can't move, it shakes uncontrollably while his mind races restlessly. This has been happening almost every night for three years so why wasn't he already used to it?

His apartment is dark, and the moon slips between the curtains to illuminate the living space. Trash litters the floor, dishes pile up in the sink, and papers scattered across his desk. He doesn't care though. Nobody sees it, and nobody ever will. He has no family, no friends, no significant other in his life. Every day falls into the same routine of the numbing emptiness of waking up, going to work, and coming home.

It doesn't have to be like this but Kenma is antisocial, traumatized, and convinces himself that he's meant to be alone for the rest of his life.

🍂

One evening on his way home, Kenma discovers a local dive bar. He doesn't drink often but the alcohol is enough to make him feel somewhat alive. After a couple of visits, he begins to notice faces, and on a particularly chilly autumn night in mid-September, one finally looks back at him across the counter.

Friday. 

The stranger has piercing teal eyes, thick eyebrows, and the prettiest facial structures framed by messy, black hair. He wears a stoic expression, Kenma figures he's either extremely composed or a serious drunk. His figure is tall, slender. Many women pass his seat exchanging sweet nothings in his general direction. He doesn't notice, or if he does, he gives no visible reaction. His hands wrap around a glass of whiskey. Kenma acknowledges the stranger's hands are larger than most. They look pale, firm, probably cold.

Reality slaps Kenma and he draws his gaze back to his own drink yet he still feels the cool stare of the gorgeous stranger on his profile. He runs his fingers through his two-toned matted tresses and sighs. He looks up again and side-eyes the stranger who is now sitting next to him.

"Hi."

[Wow,] Kenma thinks. [He's even prettier up close. Wait- why is he sitting next to me? Why would he want to? Is this some mirage? How much did I drink?]

His voice is low and husky, matching his cool exterior. Kenma nods hesitantly.

"Hello." He mumbles, feeling drowsy. He is not in the mood for small talk. "Why were you staring at me? Why are you sitting there? Why are you still looking at me?" He doesn't know what he's saying.

"I want to photograph you, I was studying your...physique." The stranger replies nonchalantly, unfazed by the bombardment of interrogations.

"Why? Who the hell even are you?" Kenma props his elbow on the countertop resting his cheek in one hand.

"Well," the man starts. "To begin with, you're captivating. Also-" he pauses. "I work for a travel magazine. I take pictures of what I think looks pleasing."

Kenma raises an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be doing that with buildings and stuff like that? Y'know- attractions?" 

He traces the edge of his glass with an index finger, not looking up. "I meant your name, stranger." 

The stranger's lips curve up slightly. Not quite a smile, nor a smirk. "I like to think you are an attraction." He waits for a response or reaction from the shorter man.

Slowly lifting his head and lining his sight directly with the other, Kenma sighs. "Nice try, player. I don't buy it. Have a nice night." He waves over the bartender, placing a wad of cash beside his half-full drink.

"If you think that I am joking or flirting with you for my own amusement, or perhaps you think I'm doing this so you can boost your ego, I'm not." He takes his wallet out and flashes a business card. "Akaashi Keiji, travel photographer."

This time, he genuinely smiles, his eyes lock with Kenma's. "And you?" Akaashi sets the card down next to Kenma's money. "Who the hell even are you?" He retorts back, with the look of being cheeky, candid.

For a moment, Kenma isn't sure how to answer. 

[What if this is all some joke, and I'm going to be the butt of it? What if I give my name away and give my hopes up? What if this Akaashi is mocking me, using me, scheming something else? What if--]

He draws in a deep breath and exhales slowly. He takes the card and shoves it in his pocket. He knows this road like the back of his hand. Falling for a pretty face, opening up, letting his guard down, getting attached, being vulnerable...all that always ends up in foolish blind false hope and all too real gut-wrenching pain.

"I'm leaving." Kenma swings his briefcase over his shoulder and doesn't look back.

He doesn't need this. He doesn't want this. That's what his rational brain tells him but his heart aches for someone who will just stay. Someone just willing to understand him. Someone he just walked away from who could cut open his wounds, heal what he shut out. Someone like that won't just show up and follow Kenma's fears all the way down. Someone like that won't come with him-

"Then I'm coming with you." Akaashi Keiji states, soft enough for customers in earshot to hear but loud enough for Kenma's world to shatter with four words.

_____ 

Kenma steps outside and feels the crisp air cool him down. His cheeks are flushed but he isn't sure if it's from the alcohol or Akaashi. Probably both.

Akaashi follows him outside, standing from a short distance. He knows he's being persistent but ever since he saw Kenma, he couldn't take his eyes off of him. There was some unspoken magnetism about him Akaashi couldn't quite place. He hopes he isn't coming off as a creepy stalker.

Kenma thinks this man is being pushy. Who would want to be a part of his achromatic life? Maybe- Kenma wonders. 

[He really does want to know me.] 

He looks up at the sky as a plane streaks through the sunset. [No, this is just wishful thinking. He'll leave one day like everyone else.] 

Kenma isn't religious but he hopes some universal bring might give him a sign as to why Akaashi randomly appeared in his life.

Akaashi watches as the blond turns around and meets his eyes. Golden slits, the kind one notices in a cat. Short build. Unsteady posture. Apathetic expression. 

[He's socially awkward.] Akaashi mentally chides.

"Would you like to get coffee?" The taller one offers.

"I don't drink coffee," Kenma responds.

"What do you drink? Aside from vodka?" Akaashi is patient. He thinks that this stranger is reserved like him. He understands the latter is probably uncomfortable in this situation.

"You ask too many questions," Kenma says before trudging down the sidewalk toward his highrise.

"I wouldn't if you answered them. I want to know you." Akaashi follows him stepping quietly.

"No, you don't. There is nothing interesting about me. Stop following me, please." Kenma doesn't turn around but there is a tone of desperation in his voice.

"You lie easily. What's your name?" Akaashi's pace quickens.

"Kenma." The two-toned man turns around, his eyes brimming with tears. "Is that all?" 

[No- not this. Please, not this again. It hurts too much.] 

"I'm not lying. I don't know you. You're interrogating me." He lists all the reasons he's been holding back. Shallow reasons.

"Kenma," Akaashi repeats, the name sitting on his tongue like a foreign taste. He isn't lying. "I'm sorry, I'm probably scaring you but I still want to know you."

"Why?"

"You intrigue me."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Kenma doesn't know either but he's already been led on. 

What the hell? He's too pretty to be talking to me. Might as well, he's not going to stop now.

"So...what do you want to know?" Kenma slowly asks.

"How much are you willing to tell me?" Akaashi inquires back.

"How much are you willing to give me a chance?" Kenma pleads with a cut-glass tone.

Akaashi realizes it now. "Give me a week." He says sure of himself. Throughout his entire life, he had always been observant, analytical, picking up on the smallest details meticulously.

[Of course,] Kenma feels like an idiot. False intentions. He masks a face of indifference.

It's as if Akaashi read his mind. "Look, I'm only in the city for a week and I know I have work to do. I can't explain why but I was drawn to you, I am drawn to you. If you don't want me to keep this up, then I won't."

He takes a breath in, closing his eyes. Kenma detects a shift in Akaashi's voice. It's the tone of being let down and putting on a brave front. His face is still, but when he opens his eyes, they still pierce right through Kenma.

"My name is on the card. Call me if you like." Akaashi finally says moments after a silence between them drowning out the city noises. Kenma detects no emotion now. Kenma knew disappointment hurt to take, but hurt even worse to give.

"Akaashi, right?" The name sounds strangely familiar. "There's a cafe on Monroe & Maine if you still want to go. They have a good apple pie." It is a strange sensation that Kenma is making a suggestion.

Moments pass before the teal eyed man says anything. Eventually, he agrees.

"I like apple pie." He smiles this time. A real smile.

🍂

"Kenma, where are you going?" Akaashi calls out to him, in confusion.

"Walking, it's only four blocks." The latter says with slight irritation. [Does Akaashi have short term memory?] He pondered.

"It would be faster to drive, it's getting colder and the sun is setting." Akaashi points in the opposite direction. "I have a car, come on." He doesn't wait for Kenma to answer. Did he really expect him to walk all that distance?

Kenma shuffles behind Akaashi. It's a bother to him to have to argue with someone offering a free ride. Though he won't admit it, Kenma likes the thought of a car heater keeping him warm rather than blowing air into his hands.

It's not that cold outside, honestly. Akaashi walks up to a car that makes Kenma's jaw drop just slightly. A black Porsche. His vehicle looks as expensive as he is. Glamourous. [Does he come from money?] Kenma can't help but wonder as he admires the glossy coat. The taller man opens the door to the passenger seat and gestures for Kenma to get in. He looks like a chauffeur.

"Um, thanks. I guess you're a gentleman." Kenma lowers his head, entering the car. He makes eye contact with Akaashi again. He notices his eyes are more gunmetal blue than teal. Still entrancing. He looks away quickly.

"Chivalry isn't dead yet." Akaashi jokes but it's stale and awkward, not lighthearted. He clears his throat, closes the door, and walks around to the driver's seat. Kenma glances in the backseat. It's neat and tidy. He expects that much. The car itself is clean, smells new, and smells like vanilla and pine. An intrusive thought evades his mind. [I wonder what he smells like...] He snaps out of it, embarrassed.

Kenma gives Akaashi the directions. They ride in deafening silence for a whole 30 seconds before one of them says anything.

"Do you have a car-" "I like your car," Their words clash, causing an even more unbearable quiet to suffocate them.

Akaashi goes first. He has already learned to make the first move, to give the other a nudge, to take initiative if he wanted anything out of Kenma's reserved character.

"Thank you, I've had this car since I was eighteen. My father gave it to me as a birthday gift," He turns his left signal on, swerving into the turn lane. He adds "I haven't heard from him since."

"Oh," Kenma reacts sympathetically. "You keep it maintained pretty well." His words are clumsy. "How old are you?" He ventures. In his mind, Kenma believes Akaashi to be at least twenty-five or twenty-six.

"Twenty, but I'll be twenty-one in December." He replies, calmly. Akaashi knows he doesn't look his age. Everyone misjudged him for being older than he actually was. His height and mature nature took a lot of responsibility for that though.

"You're kidding," Kenma utters in disbelief.

His eyes scan Akaashi from the neck up. His collarbone is pronounced, the delicate skin on his cheeks is rosy, the tufts of his hair tucked neatly behind his ears. There is no way he's younger than him. Akaashi can sense Kenma staring at him, he doesn't mind. He likes it, sort of.

"No, I'm not. And you?" He questions in return.

"I'm also twenty but I know I don't look like it." Kenma removes a strand of hair from his line of sight.

"When do you turn twenty-one?"

"October."

"I suppose you're older than me," Akaashi remarks with surprising kindness. He steals a quick glance. Kenma looked more like an undeveloped teenager, but of course, he couldn't have been in that age range if he were drinking in a bar.

"I am older than you." Kenma states matter of factly. His tone isn't rude, he's stating the obvious. His gaze follows the city outside the tinted window. He hears a light chuckle. It sounds beautiful. 

______

Akaashi parks the car. The sky has colored a lavender hue above them. It's mesmerizing. Kenma steps out of the Porsche and walks next to Akaashi who is at least 5'11" or taller. A good height for someone of his build. On the other hand, Kenma himself is an average height but slouches so often he appears shorter.

Kenma opens the door, letting Akaashi pass him. In slow motion, Kenma manages to get a whiff of Akaashi's scent. [He isn't wearing cologne.] It would be notable if he were. [Does he naturally smell like salt air and the ocean? Did he grow up in a coastal town?] More intrusive thoughts.

The two men find a window seat. The cafe is cozy, local, and only a few other people are present. Akaashi can see why a place like this fits Kenma well. It practically screams his name.

"How did you find out about this place?" Akaashi asks while scanning the menu card.

"My parents brought me here all the time when I was younger." Kenma replies plainly. It's not a sensitive subject. At least, not anymore.

"Do- do they still come here often?" Akaashi pushes further, unaware that he has made a mistake.

"They're dead," Kenma says indifferently, tracing a dent on the table.

"I'm sorry." Akaashi puts the menu down. His face is empathetic, not pitiful like Kenma expects.

"Why? They're gone. It doesn't matter now." The blond continues to trace the dent. He doesn't look up from it.

"Just because it doesn't hurt anymore doesn't mean it won't leave a scar." Akaashi is peering at Kenma. His tone is serious, concerned. He knows this feeling well.

"What do you mean?" Kenma stops moving his fingers, slowly raising his head to match the other man's penetrating stare. It's as if Akaashi can see right through him. It's as if Akaashi understands.

"You may have suppressed the memory but it can still hurt despite how much you've chosen or choose to ignore it." Akaashi's gunmetal irises seep into Kenma's memory. [God, I think he knows. I could stare at him forever.]

/I'm only in the city for a week./

Kenma almost feels tears clawing their way up in his sockets but he won't allow that. Not here, not now. Not in public, not in front of the most elegant man he had ever met. He always did this to himself. Falling in "love" based on looks. And he hated himself for it. 

"And...how would you know?" Kenma shoots back defensively. He doesn't mean for it to come out that way but it does. All the pain is coming back, flooding through his veins, blocked by an emotional dam of naiveté.

"My mother left me and my father when I was a child. I came home from school and when she wasn't there, I asked my dad where she had gone. He didn't tell me anything for years. After that, I gave up on hoping she would come back" Akaashi keeps his focus on Kenma, expressing sincerity.

Kenma says nothing. He processes that even someone like Akaashi can go through traumatic experiences. He beats himself for misjudging the latter, blinded by the assumption that Akaashi lived in luxury.

"That's pretty hard to accept, I'm sorry." Kenma mumbles. He isn't good at apologies.

"It's not your fault for her absence nor is it your fault for not knowing," Akaashi assures the guilty and red-faced man sitting across from him.

🍂

A waitress comes over to take their order. She knows Kenma is a regular but is surprised that he has brought someone else for the first time in the five years she's worked there. She gives him a friendly smile, company protocol.

"Kozume, your usual?" She asks, already writing it down. "Mhm, thanks Hanayo."

She turns to Akaashi. "For you, sir?" She pauses. "We have a special offer for first-time customers. Your order is half price on anything excluding spirits and to-go orders."

"Hmm, what do you recommend ma'am?" Akaashi looked over the menu, but a professional opinion is also a good alternative.

Hanayo is taken off guard, stuttering momentarily. She has a pensive look on her face before answering. "Personally, I enjoy the strawberry creme puff or matcha mousse. Taro milk tea is a good complement for those, but I like to have Thai iced tea."

"Then may I try the creme puff with an iced Thai tea, please?" Akaashi hands her the menu. "Thank you for the suggestions."

"Of course!" She replies enthusiastically. Years of customer service had perfected her retail persona yet this one was genuine. She casually passes Kenma and whispers not so secretly in his ear. "He's cute." She winks at him and says nothing more.

Heat rises in Kenma cheeks, Akaashi notes this. When she's out of sight, Akaashi leans forward tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

"Kozume?" He mentions the name.

"Yeah, my family name. Formal stuff but I don't like it so I go by Kenma." He shrugs.

"How fitting. Well, Akaashi is my family name."

"Do people normally call you that?"

"Most of them, yes."

"You said your first name was Keiji. Right?"

This is the first time Akaashi realizes Kenma has been analyzing him in the same way he'd been doing so. His heart skips a beat, indicating that Kenma's recognition of such a subtle detail affects him.

"It is." Akaashi clears his throat.

"Can I call you that, then?" Kenma hesitates to string the sentence along.

"A swell of intense sweetness stirs in Akaashi's stomach. "Yes," is all he can manage.

"A-kaa-shi Kei-ji," The syllables roll gently off Kenma's lips, sounding nothing like the name the other man grew up with. When Kenma says it, it drips like honey. It's strange to hear from Akaashi's point of view.

Kenma likes the way it sounds. Rhythmic almost. Odd nomenclature though. The two are silent again, but this time it is more relaxed, unlike the tense times before.

Hanayo comes back with their orders and rests a light hand on Kenma's shoulder. She smiles devilishly, and Kenma senses something about to go wrong. He sits upright, shooting daggers at her.

"Y'know sir," she teases.

"I've worked here a long time and this is the first time he's ever had someone come with him. At least, that's what I thought so I asked my coworkers, obviously," Hanayo is starting to ramble. Kenma wants to slam his head against the window.

"...Apparently they all agreed that they've never seen Kozume with anyone either..."

She feels a cold hand brush her own off. She thinks this is all good fun, and Kenma is being silly with her but finds no trace of comedy on his face. Instead, she sees a scowl mixed with humiliation. Biting her lip, she stops talking.

"I'm sorry, enjoy your desserts." Hanayo smiles weakly and walks off.

Observant or not, the situation needs no explanation or introspection. Akaashi is aware that Kenma feels shameful at the moment. He won't say anything. Not now at least.

Every time the conversation seemed to improve, some minor setback reset the mood to awkwardness.

Both Akaashi and Kenma acknowledged this. [Something has to change,] they think ambiguously. 

_____

An hour passes. Akaashi and Kenma are sitting in the car. The car engine hums quietly as the radio plays soft classical music. It's evident that the atmosphere is heavy.

🍂

After Hanayo had gossipped, Kenma felt nauseous and ran to the restroom, sick with horrible memories swimming in his head. He threw up in a stall. He cried. He cursed out whoever gave him this life. Meanwhile, Akaashi had contemplated going after him. [No, he needs his space. This is probably a lot for him.] Hanayo walks past him when he stops her.

She looked as guilty as she felt. She knew Kenma didn't have many if any, friends. She should have known better for Kenma's sake, not her own second-hand excitement. She wanted to apologize though she knew that wasn't what Kenma needed either. Akaashi detects those sentiments.

"I'm Akaashi, I met Kenma a couple of hours ago." Akaashi spared no effort in wasting time. "I'm not sure what our relations are yet, but you two seem familiarized. What can you tell me about him?"

"I shouldn't say since I've done enough damage. He's gonna hate me now that I broke his trust." She murmured, head low.

As understanding as he wanted to be, Akaashi ignored the boundaries. "Would you at least tell me how you met him?" His patience was running thin.

"No, I can't. I'm sorry." She sighs, leaving the check and a couple of boxes on the table. "Please pay at the front," Her breath hitches. 

"You won't tell him I told you anything," Hanayo's eyes averted from looking at Akaashi.

"I won't," Akaashi promised. 

"Truthfully, no one knows much about him. He keeps his life very private but a little while ago his parents died on national news which is pretty hard to take on. He likes playing video games, I remember his mom telling me that when I first started working here. That's really all I know." 

"Thank you." Akaashi bowed his head slightly. He could tell she wasn't telling him lies. His curiosity was growing stronger as his patience was wearing thin. 

Kenma came back to the table, completely disheveled. He didn't know how to articulate what he had been trying to say. Akaashi offered a kind smile but it brought no solace. His own upbringing was mostly in solitude so he had never learned to comfort people as well as communicating with them.

🍂

"Hey," A small voice meekly cuts the somber ambiance. "Can I ask you something?"

Akaashi looks up from the window at Kenma. His eyes aren't as puffy anymore, but still pinkish.

"Hmm?"

"Do you mind driving me home? I don't own a car and it's getting late and dark and cold-" Kenma requests hoping he isn't asking for too much. He really just wants to spend a little more time with Akaashi. Technically, it's not an excuse since he really does a ride home.

"I don't mind." The gentleness of Akaashi's voice puts Kenma at ease. He places his hand on the gearshift and pulls out, concentrating on maneuvering out of the parking lot.

"Akaashi?"

"Yes,"

"Is it stupid that I don't have a car?"

"No, I guess you wouldn't need one when you live in a place where you can walk or take a train everywhere." Akaashi gives a sensible answer.

"Actually, I don't know how to drive," Kenma admits.

"Wait, did you fail your test?"

"Not really, I just never learned. I wasn't taught so I didn't take the test. Or buy a car, not that it would have mattered because I can't drive anyways." Kenma's thoughts drift verbally. [Akaashi is a good driver, but he won't teach me. Not when he's supposed to be working.] A wave of sadness crushes any fragments of hope Kenma had.

"What's your address?" Akaashi wants to change the subject. He doesn't know how he's supposed to react. [Twenty years old with no license? Doesn't that scare him? What if he gets mugged, or kidnapped? What about weather conditions? It's unreliable transportation.]

"Oh, right. Sorry, it's-" Kenma is speaking but his mind is worrying that Akaashi just wants to get rid of him. Then again, if that were the case, would he have agreed to take him home? Did he do it out of basic human kindness and courtesy? Was there an ulterior motive?

The GPS is set up and from the cafe, it's a couple of miles to drive but would take hours to walk. Thinking that Kenma made that commute on a daily basis gave Akaashi an anxious feeling. He's in his head when he hears an external voice calling his name. Not the GPS.

Kenma is calling his name and Akaashi snaps out of it.

"I wasn't listening, I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"You passed the apartment complex, it's a few streets back," Kenma says. He's holding something else back.

"Oh, sorry again," Akaashi mutters to himself. [God, I'm an idiot. He's gonna think I'm a space cadet.]

The car pulls up to the curb and Kenma unbuckles the seatbelt. Truthfully, he doesn't want to leave. He doesn't want Akaashi to drive off in his pretty car with his pretty eyes. He's going to try to hold on for as long as time will let him. Kenma makes an impulsive decision.

"Thanks, Akaashi." He begins with hesitancy. The other man nods properly. Another silence.

"Um, so do you have a place to stay while you're here?" Kenma ventures praying the answer is-

"Not yet, I'm going to find a hotel soon. Do you have any recommendations?" He reaches for his phone, about to search for nearby accommodations.

Without thinking, Kenma blurts out a bold question. "Will you stay with me?" [Too straightforward, too demanding.] He clears his throat and still manages to stutter. "I-I mean, would you like to? It'd save you money..."

His voice trails off. Kenma is looking for excuses to not be alone. In the short amount of time he's met and conversed with Akaashi, he feels nostalgic security with him, as if they had always known one another.

Akaashi is speechless, his mind turned into fuzzy tv static. He doesn't have a reason to say no and saving money is an additional benefit. Honestly, his heart is pounding against his chest, he can barely breathe. 

"Okay." is all he says but with the surety of feeling like this was something he never knew he had always wanted.

_____

[Shit, my apartment.] 

Kenma remembers the state of being his home is in. He lives on the 27th floor, and now that he and Akaashi are alone in the elevator, he realizes how slowly the levels move. There is no jazz music or mechanical noise to hush the crushing awkwardness. An elevator is much more concealed than a car. 

"My apartment is messy, so you can ignore that." Kenma's face is sheepish. He's never had anyone in his apartment. 

"Do you live alone?" Akaashi asks. It's a silly question but he can't help himself. 

"Pretty much. I don't have a guest room though so I'll pull out the couch bed or you can use a futon." Kenma pulls his phone out of his pocket. The time reads nine p.m. Time evaded him. 

"Not used to company, huh?" the raven-haired man guesses. 

"Well," Kenma falters. The only people who've come through his home were bad decisions called one night stands. He won't tell Akaashi that. 

"It's alright, we can clean your apartment together." The elevator bell dings as if on cue. 

Kenma flinches. [Together.] He feels his ears turn red thanking God his hair covers them. 

The corridor is long, stretching wayward in both directions. Kenma steps out making a left turn. Akaashi follows behind with his luggage. The wheels shuffling along the carpet is the only distinctive audible sound. 

"This a sizeable floor," Akaashi notes. [The complex looks like it was built recently, so it's probably pricier to live here. What kind of work does Kenma do to afford this?] 

"Yeah, there are ten apartments on each of the thirty floors." 

He stops in front of an apartment and takes out a key card from his wallet. After he swipes the card, the door clicks and he pushes it aside. There is a small space, with a second door in view. Kenma punches the code into the keypad and slides it open. 

"Tight security to have two doors," Akaashi adds. He rolls his suitcase through the first door then places his shoes neatly in the corner. 

The apartment is dark, and despite looking like a hurricane swept through it, there is no odor. Akaashi knows better than to make comments on Kenma's living arrangements. In his head, he's cringing. [How can anyone live in this mess? God, I hope there aren't rats.] He mentally grimaces. 

Kenma turns on a light fixture. It's even worse in an illuminated light. He lazily tosses his wallet on the counter and plops down on the couch. He exhales, relieved to be home but senses Akaashi's discomfort. He sits up properly and looks around. [I suppose it is a little unkempt. Of course, I'm used to it though.] 

"Where should I start?" Akaashi pushes his luggage into a corner. He takes off his coat and underneath, Kenma notices his broad shoulders, muscular build. Hair sits on Akaashi's nape, Kenma turns away. He doesn't realize how much time he's spent drinking in Akaashi's features in fleeting moments. [He even looks good from behind.] 

"Um, wherever you want, I guess. It's not that messy." Kenma is oblivious to the fact that his home is a disaster beyond some trash on the floor. 

Akaashi lets out an unexpected laugh. "Not that messy? Kenma, I've been traveling for a long time and I've never encountered anything like this." His tone is blunt, playful. He bends down and begins collecting food wrappings and drink containers. 

Kenma leans off the sofa and picks up a piece of paper. His hand brushes lightly against Akaashi's. He remains calm when it happens as his brain stutters. [I'm just touch starved. This doesn't mean anything.]

Akaashi felt it too. Kenma's fingers are delicate yet firm. A light color tinted with pink. Clean fingernails, but there are marks where he had bit off the skin. [A habit of anxiety.]

"Then go clean the kitchen." Kenma expresses a grin. 

🍂 

It's now a quarter past eleven p.m. and Kenma is pulling out the sofa bed. The metal rods creak as if they were rusty despite being bought a little over eight months ago. The apartment is tidy thanks to Akaashi and he's worked up quite a sweat. 

"Thanks for helping me clean up the place," Kenma admits that he never would have done anything about the disorder if not for Keiji being somewhat of a critical guest. 

"You're welcome," he says casually. "Is it alright if I take a quick shower?" His fingers brush through the hair he pulls back out of his face. 

"Bathroom is the first door on the left. Towels and stuff are in the closet next to it." Kenma answers, reaching for the remote. 

"Okay," Akaashi wants to say thank you again but he refrains. After a few minutes, Kenma hears the water running and a curtain sliding back and forth. 

The TV becomes background noise, a mindless buzz in Kenma's living room. He's thinking of Akaashi's eyes. Their glimmer, their intensity, their luster. His mind wanders into impurity. He's been studying the enigmatic since their encounter. 

He sighs, his cheeks painted with a blush. He buries his face in a throw pillow. [Akaashi... he's only here for a little while...he probably doesn't know the city. Should I offer to show him around me? What if he thinks I'm annoying? ... Even if he says yes, where would we go? What would we do? He probably has to work. Then again...]

A door clicks and Akaashi steps out. Kenma has to tell himself not to turn around and gawk like a high school girl. If Akaashi looked as handsome as he did in formal attire, his casual clothes were equally as good-looking. Unless he wasn't wearing anything except a towel...with those broad shoulders slick with water, hair unruly and clean, and those hands... 

[Lord knows I would let him ruin me with those hands...]

Akaashi moves into the room and takes a seat next to Kenma. He leaves space between them so there is personal space but he doesn't want there so much room keeping them apart. 

"That was a quick shower." the blond notes. 

"Energy-efficient and I don't want to raise your water bill." the younger one responds. 

"How considerate." Kenma remarks. 

"I try," Akaashi leans back folding his arms across his chest. He inhales and exhales slowly, eyes closed.

"Hey, Kenma?" The voice is calm and soft. His eyes flutter open. 

"Hmm?" Kenma turns the television off and positions himself to face Akaashi. 

"What do you do for a living?" 

"Multimedia journalism. I work in the Design department." 

"Do you enjoy it?" 

"Well, I get to test drive the games and write reviews about them. I like that I can do it at home and don't have to talk to people very often. I also get to choose my hours, so that's a nice bonus."

The clock ticks. 

"Akaashi," Kenma's voice wavers.

"Yeah?" The other answers patiently. 

"Since you're here, in the city, in my home. I want you to feel comfortable. You can treat this place like it's your home too. Honestly, it's never even felt like mine." Kenma looks down at the cushion he's sitting on. Akaashi shifts his head.

"That's very kind of you to say." He places a hand on Kenma's which startles the older boy to look up. Now they're making eye contact briefly. Kenma averts his gaze. 

"That's not the point," Kenma murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "So if you'd like, I can show you around and you can take pictures and explore. I've grown up here my entire life so I know where most everything is." 

When Akaashi doesn't reply, Kenma raises his head. [Did I say something wrong? Does he hate me now? What have I done?] Overthinking is Kenma's fight or flight instinct. 

That sharp stare that he first saw in the bar had melted into a warm contemplative look. Akaashi moves closer to Kenma. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were asking me on a date?" He teases, voice rich with seduction. 

Kenma's face is redder than a tomato. "I-I'm not," He sputters. "Geez, I was trying to be nice and trying to help you-"

He freezes. Akaashi's face is inches away from his. He can't move nor does he wish to. He feels his heartbeat pulses in the back of his throat. 

"What are you doing?" Kenma breathes, taking in all of Akaashi's beauty. 

"Watching you." Akaashi smiles, drawing back. 

If not for the terrifying flash in Kenma's eyes, he would have kissed him right then and there. [I don't have his consent, he barely knows me. I'd scare him and we've already come this far.] Akaashi's rationale reminds him to take things slow. 

Kenma is still recovering from the proximity of the raven-haired man's bold move. Questions flood his head along with wild assumptions and ridiculed feelings of insecurity.

[He almost kissed me- wait no, he's teasing. He probably has a girlfriend I mean why wouldn't he. And strangers don't kiss other strangers if they have a partner already. Was this about to be another one-night-stand?]

Kenma stands up quickly. "I'm going to bed." He announces, walking around the couch instead of by Akaashi. On his way out, he turns out the light.

"Goodnight." His voice echoes from the hall and he shuts the bedroom door. 

"Goodnight," Akaashi answers back into the emptiness. 

_____

Saturday. 

Akaashi awakes groggily the next morning almost forgetting where he is. Almost. The sunlight filters through the curtains covering the room in an amber glow. It's a sign that the sun is rising so it's probably early in the morning. 

He pads quietly across the room into the kitchen space and opens the fridge. It's a sore sight. All that lies there is a half carton of milk and the apple pie from last night. Sighing, he walks into the hall careful not to make any raucous noises. 

A hazy neon glow dimly lights up the bottom doorframe of Kenma's room. Akaashi puts his ear to the door. There is some quiet mumbling accompanying the sounds of a console/keyboard clicking. 

[Is he working this early in the morning?] Akaashi wonders. He lightly raps on the door. Light footsteps scuffled across the carpet and Kenma cracked open the door. "Um, hi." He greets. 

"Kenma, it's seven forty-five in the morning. How long have you been awake?" Akaashi yawns, rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

"Three a.m." The blond replies casually. 

Akaashi is too tired to argue over a decent sleep schedule aside from the fact this is Kenma's residence. 

"That's pretty early- any way you don't have any food in the fridge. Where's the closest supermarket?" 

"It's a ten-minute walk from here. Let me get dressed and I'll take you." Kenma informs him. 

🍂

08:00 a.m.

A cool breeze nips at them as they're walking on the streets, already crowded with people going about their lives. 

"Did you sleep well?" Kenma wraps a light scarf around his neck. 

"Mm, better than I have in a couple of days. Jet lag and all." Akaashi folds his coat over his torso. 

"After breakfast, do you want to get to work and start taking photographs?" Kenma wastes no time in trying to move past the how's-the-weather-questions. He's not a morning person but Akaashi's company is worth starting the day before noon. 

"Preferably. If I can finish my assignment in the first three days then I have four days to relax before flying back to headquarters." Akaashi picks up on the subtle bluntness of Kenma's inquiry. 

08:18 a.m. 

The store is busy, a shopping buzz surrounding them. Kenma shops around while Akaashi takes candid shots of the ongoing activity of customers. 

08:34 a.m. 

Akaashi cooks them breakfast. He makes egg quiches with fruit smoothies. 

"Where did you learn to cook?" Kenma pokes a fork into the soft quiche. It's been too long since he's had a decent breakfast. 

"I lived in Provence for a bit and the home caretaker taught me." Akaashi's tone is reminiscent. 

"Provence, France? You lived in France? How old were you?" Kenma questions in awe. He always liked the idea of travel but he's too indolent to make the effort. 

"Look who's asking all the questions now," Akaashi looks over his shoulder with a sly smile. 

"Don't be cheeky." Kenma shoots back playfully as he takes a bite of the egg. It's sweet and savory. It has a fluffy taste in addition to texture. 

"I think I was about nine or ten at the time." The taller one says though it sounds more like a question rather than a statement. He turns off the stovetop and sits down at the table. "How is it?" 

"Delicious, you're a good cook, Akaashi." Kenma takes another bite. "What else do you know how to make?" 

A pensive look crosses the pale-skinned man. "Nanohana no Kirashiae and onigiri, they're two of my favorite foods." He picks up a fork. 

Kenma stares at him. "Fancy shit. I like pie." 

"Before my mom left, she taught me how to make an amazing apple pie. I know it by memory." Akaashi pushes the quiche around. "I could teach you how to make it." He gives the kind of smile that a child would give an adult after saying gibberish. 

"I would like that." Kenma reciprocates the smile. It's 9:30 a.m. now. 

🍂

"So the obvious attractions are the botanical gardens, the glass stadium, city library-" Kenma straps the seatbelt across his chest, listing all the major tourist sites. He and Akaashi finished eating and are setting out on the city. 

"Show me your favorite places." Akaashi cuts him off. Not in a rude manner, it's more like a request. "There exist so many photos of the famous places already." He adjusts the rearview mirror. 

"Oh." Kenma replies dryly. [I didn't expect that. What are the places I like?] His mind blanks and suddenly he can't remember anywhere he's ever been. 

So, he insists on the popular places of activity. They spend hours darting around town squares, antique shops, local eateries. They pass commissioned murals, vandalized bridges, and sidewalks covered in chalk drawings. Akaashi snaps photos of everything, making note of every location. 

The sun begins to dip beneath the horizon. The two men are looking at the photos in the car parked between an old church and schoolhouse. 

"Is there anywhere else you wanted to go before going back home?" Kenma asks. 

"Kenma, there are so many photos in my camera, I'm not sure there's any storage left." Akaashi chuckles. He checks the settings. "Actually, I have a bit of memory left." He corrects himself. 

A place in the depths of Kenma's memory resurfaces itself. His golden eyes widen alarming Akaashi momentarily. 

"I know somewhere." 

🍂

The sight is sorrowful. Akaashi's eyes scan the scenery. Weeds are overgrown in the yard, dusty glass windows smashed asymmetrically, and black burn marks decorate the brick exterior. 

Akaashi can't say anything for minutes. Words try to formulate in his head but it's no use. No words are needed. This place is the evident result of fire damage. This place was an old home. 

"It's not attractive at all," Kenma comments, almost disgusted. "I can't believe it's still here." He whispers as if haunted waiting several seconds before speaking again. "Akaashi." He calls to the photographer behind him. 

"What do you think of this place?" He doesn't turn around. He can't bring himself to see Akaashi's pretty face looking at such an ugly part of his past. 

"Well," the taller man starts slowly. He preps his camera and snaps a shot of the decaying building. "It's mysterious." Akaashi takes a step forward. His camera shutters until the sound gets closer and closer to Kenma. 

"What do you mean." Kenma's voice is emotionless. 

"It burned down. Sort of. I wonder how. Were there any survivors? How did it start? When did it start deteriorating?" Akaashi thinks aloud. Kenma bites his lip. 

He stands next to Akaashi and takes a deep breath in. "This place," his breath hitches. "Was the home I grew up in." 

The last word leaves his lips like a dying breath like it had lifted a curse upon Kenma's shoulders. Akaashi continues to observe the house. 

"It was pretty nice. After my parents died, I went to go live with my aunt. I heard it was broken into and robbed a couple of months later. Sometime after that, a group of teens moved in. One night they commit arson. The fire destroyed everything. I saw on the news that those teens left the burned body in my old bedroom... This is the first time I've been back to see it in person." 

"Kenma." Akaashi places a hand on his shoulder. "Can we go inside?" 

"No, the premise is off-limits. I wanted to show you because it's different and it's mine." He chokes on his words. Tears are welling up in his eyes.

"I understand," Akaashi wraps his arms around the older boy, resting his chin on Kenma's head. The two-toned hair is silky, smells earthy. Akaashi closes his eyes. When he speaks, he confesses something he's carried within himself for more than a decade. 

"What it's like to lose a home." 

Kenma flinches when Akaashi embraces him. He likes it and allows it to happen. Today the man hugging him has a sweet scent like honeysuckle and sugar jasmine. It's sickening to Kenma's senses. He clings onto the material of Akaashi's coat and he sobs quietly. 

_____

At this moment, no one exists but them. It's getting colder and darker. 

"We should go." Kenma lets go and the moment he peels away he feels cold and not from the weather. 

The drive back to the apartment is quiet. Both men are lost in their own thoughts. To Kenma, Akaashi's embrace felt like the safest place he had ever been- only a couple of minutes. He thinks about what Akaashi said at the cafe. 

/Just because it doesn't hurt doesn't mean it won't leave a scar./ 

But with Akaashi's presence, the scar is slowly starting to heal. [Time means nothing, character does.] Kenma realizes after knowing the younger man for merely two days. 

The streetlights are dim, covering the black sky in an orange haze. 

🍂

"Are you hungry?" Kenma unlocks the doors to his apartment. 

"Perhaps," AKaashi guesses. Is he hungry? Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach so he wasn't sure. 

"I can order take-out. What do you like?" Kenma kicks his shoes off, padding lightly across the wooden floors. 

"Anything is fine, I'm not picky." The raven-haired eyed man follows behind him. 

"How about pho?" The smaller huffs obviously distracted by something else. 

"I haven't had that in forever, yeah that sounds nice." 

After rummaging through his cabinets, Kenma finally locates a take-out paper. 

"What kind of soup do you want, Akaashi?" Kenma dials the number, scanning the menu. 

"Do they have a vegetarian option?" "Yes." "Then that, please. Thanks." "Mhmm."

"It'll arrive in half an hour to an hour." Kenma announces a few moments later, hanging up. 

Akaashi is perched on the couch, fiddling with his fingers. Kenma notes on it. 

"Are you nervous?" He plops down beside him, crossing his legs applesauce style. 

"No," Akaashi pulls on his index fingers. 

"You seem fidgety." Kenma reaches for the remote. 

"Oh, it's just a habit. I guess I just do it subconsciously. Does it bother you?" Akaashi stops.

"Doesn't bother me at all." Kenma murmurs scrolling through channels. "There's nothing good on tv." He clicks off the screen. 

"So what do you want to do?" Akaashi asks innocently. 

Kenma's face is concentrated on a thought. "We..." he trails off. 

"We?" The taller repeats.

"We could get to know each other." Kenma finishes, feeling dumbfounded. [Why would I suggest that? I find out about him and he leaves and I never see him again? Why would I do this to him, to myself?] Kenma bites his lower lip, anticipating an answer from Akaashi. The latter agrees. 

"Who goes first? Are there rules?" Akaashi shifts his position to face Kenma. "Like, any sensitive subjects I should avoid?" 

"More sensitive than dead or absent parents? Kenma pokes. Akaashi chuckles softly. There is a mutual understanding. 

"I'll go first." The taller initiates the playful interrogations. "Why were you up so early this morning?" He decides to save more personal questions for a later time. 

"I was playing an RP game with some people online." Kenma answers honestly. He rubs the hem of his shirt in circles. 

"Did you sleep at all? We got home pretty late last night." Akaashi raises his point. 

We...home... The words press into Kenma's head unbeknownst to him. "I guess from one to five a.m." He replies but it comes out sounding like an assumption. Akaashi smiles. 

"Okay, my turn." The blond moves on. "You said you lived in France. Can you speak French? Did you live anywhere else?" He doesn't care for superficial trivial questions like what's-your-favorite-insert. If he has five days left with Akaashi, he plans to make the most of it. 

"I can't speak French, it was a brief time so I don't remember," Akaashi says slowly. "When my mom left, my dad and I traveled a lot for his work. I've lived in a lot of places." 

"Where" Kenma leans forward. 

"A couple of U.S. states, Canada." Akaashi starts listing continents as Kenma watches him wide-eyed. 

"What does your father do that allows him to do that?" Kenma pushes gently. 

"Military," Akaashi replies blatantly. 

🍂

Twelve minutes have passed. The two are asking each other questions back and forth. Some questions are simple to answer, others require a moment of thought. Their food arrives and as they eat, the questions continue. Kenma pins every answer Akaashi gives him into a section of his brain. This all feels so natural and easygoing. No tension. No awkwardness. No deafening silence. 

"Kenma," Akaashi takes a sip of broth. "Do you have a girlfriend?" 

The shorter man chokes on noodles, clearly taken off guard. He coughs, embarrassed. 

A sly smile creeps onto Akaashi's face. He knows exactly what he's doing and he knows Kenma does too. 

"No," Kenma glares at him, still recovering from his near heart attack. After he's able to steady his breathing he gives a real response. "I've never had a long-term partner. Just," he cuts off. What will Akaashi think when he says he's only had one night stands? Will he hate him? Will he storm off? 

"Just," Akaashi tries to continue the phrase. He has a sneaking suspicion that he already knows but he wants Kenma's confirmation. 

"Bodies." Kenma replies with no emotion in his voice. He's scared, braces himself for the goodbye. 

Akaashi does not. 

"You don't have to tell me, Kenma." He senses the discomfort partially because he knows it's a trigger topic, partially because the thought of Kenma naked with strangers for sexual consolation makes him wince. 

"It's okay, I know they were bad decisions." Kenma acknowledges. After a few seconds, he forces himself to ask the weight crushing question back. 

"Honestly no since I've moved around so much. I had a boyfriend in high school but we didn't make it." Akaashi says almost nostalgically. 

"You've been with guys?" Kenma can't help but wonder. He feels his face shade pink. He's so girlish. 

"A few times, yes." A smirk appears on his face. He knows exactly what Kenma is implying and allows him to take the lead. "And you?"

"One time, but he couldn't finish blowing me off cause his girlfriend called. I didn't care though, it wasn't as if we were seeing each other." Kenma presses quietly. 

"Interesting," Akaashi leans back. He'd fuck Kenma on the sofa right now but all the signs were flashing. For starters, he's only known Kenma for such a short amount of time, the other had been through some traumatic shit, and Kenma doesn't have to tell him that he's the kind of person to take things slow. 

Finally, he doubted if Kenma actually liked him like that. [What if he's just being overly polite and only tolerating me? But he showed me around...he offered to do that for me, with me. He showed me his old house. He paid for my dinner. He asked me questions about myself. Would the kindness of a stranger extend that far?]

"Akaashi." Kenma's voice snaps the man out of his excessive overthinking.

He liked how Kenma pronounced his name. No stress on the syllables tonally, his voice always soft, quiet. How would a voice like that sound in pain, rage, agony? How would it sound in the bedroom beneath him? 

"Yes," he is startled. "Did you say something?" He tilts his head. [I'm so embarrassed. He's gonna think I'm an airhead.] 

"What kind of hobbies do you like?" Kenma drops the subject of sore past mistakes. He tries hard to focus on the best damn thing he's temporarily got in front of him. 

"I'm not sure. I never had time for hobbies. My dad was stationed in Vienna and while we lived there, I had waltz classes at the school I attended." 

"So you can dance?" Kenma snickers. It's an interesting scenario to imagine, fitting but interesting. 

"I was fourteen at the time Kenma. I don't think it's still in me." He pauses. "If I still remember how to do it, will you dance with me?" Akaashi extends his hand. 

Kenma, like a pdf file, stops functioning. [Did he just ask me to dance? With him? I can't dance. I don't dance. I'll make myself look like an even bigger fool.] 

"On one condition." Kenma is feeling bold. "Teach me while the apple pie bakes." He gingerly places his hand in Akaashi's palm. 

His hand is large, warm, rough, and gentle all at once. Akaashi gives it a light squeeze. Reassuring, he holds on a little too long. 

Akaashi shakes Kenma's hand, hesitant to let go. It is small, feeble, it felt fragile like it would break if he squeezes too tightly. 

"Deal." 

_____

Sunday. 

It's eleven in the morning. Akaashi had woken up hours ago, walked across the street to a coffee shop to buy a macchiato, and seated himself to work on editing his photographs. Kenma had left the keycard on the counter, and Akaashi had stolen a look at the passcode last night. 

A door clicks, and Kenma comes out looking like a complete hobo. He always felt tired but Sundays could an even worse toll on his conscious state of being. "Good morning" he mumbles. 

"Hi," Akaashi peers up momentarily from his laptop. Kenma's bedhead and droopy stare are something he could see himself waking up to every morning but of course, that's idealistic. Idealistic and unrealistic. 

"Have you been up long?" Kenma shuffles into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. 

"Hmm, maybe since five a.m." Akaashi's fingers clack quietly on the keyboard. Kenma grunts sleepily. "I'm gonna shower," he states. 

"Okay, well I'll be done in about an hour if you want to start the dessert and dance." He hints, hoping Kenma hadn't forgotten. 

Kenma hadn't. In fact, he was kept up most of the night creating fake scenarios and imaginary dreams about today. He anticipated it last night and he anticipated it now. Just an hour left. 

🍂

All the ingredients sat on the counter. The oven was preheating, and Akaashi looked illegal the way he had rolled up his sleeves. Kenma's eyes can't peel away from him. [He's so fucking pretty.] He curses to himself. 

"So, first we melt the butter in a saucepan." Akaashi looks up, unaware Kenma had been silently staring. He asks where the drawer for the cutlery is. Kenma points as he goes to the cabinet with pots and pans. Kenma watches intently as Akaashi slices the stick of butter and places the pats in a pan. 

"Stir in flour to form a paste. Add water, white sugar, and brown sugar, and bring to a boil." Akaashi recites, placing the knife down. He gives Kenma a warm smile. 

"You gonna help me or stand there and look pretty?" He's aware Kenma has been studying him. He doesn't mind. Especially when the older boy's cheeks shade into a pink tint. After last night's questions game, he can easily target Kenma's low self-esteem with compliments. 

"I was waiting for you to tell me what to do," Kenma remarks as stirs and adds the ingredients. 

"Oh, you want me to tell you what to do?" Akaashi raises a cocky brow. Teasing Kenma is amusing to him and the reward is watching him flush. 

"You're the one with the pie recipe. You're the one with the waltz know-how." Kenma emphasizes. "How am I supposed to know?" 

He sighs. He feels defeated. Akaashi is graceful. He can bake, dance, photograph. He isn't perfect but he's damn near it. At least to Kenma, comparison can't do justice. 

"You're right, you're not but it's a learning experience," Akaashi assures him. "Reduce temperature and let simmer." He stands behind Kenma and gently wraps his hand around the toned blond's wrist. With his hand on Kenma's, he guides the other to turn the stovetop knob. 

Kenma's body is tensed up, shaking slightly. Akaashi had never been so close, not even the other night when their faces were centimeters apart. Not when they shook hands last night from opposite ends of the couch having to lean forward to do it. 

"Is this okay," Akaashi asks calmly. His voice is deep, caring, and worried he had made the wrong move. 

[More than okay.] Kenma thinks with thoughts rushing through his mind. He won't say that though. 

"How long do we let it simmer," Kenma breathes, asking to distract himself. 

"Until we finish the crust." Akaashi lets his hand drop, and it takes everything in Kenma to hold back from burying himself into the other. 

Together they prep the apple pie, "accidentally" tangling their hands and apologizing for clumsy touches. Sugar and apples fill the air with their sweet aromas. The counter is fairly clean. The oven's preheated and the pie is set to bake for forty-five minutes. 

Kenma slips off the oven mitts and places them on the counter. He glances at Akaashi who is fondly watching him. 

🍂

"What?" he looks away, shyly. 

"You're beautiful." Akaashi's eyes soften, his shoulders relax. 

"Not really." Kenma tries to argue but Akaashi has already taken his hand and leads him into the living room. 

Akaashi places Kenma's hand on his own forearm between the shoulder and elbow, feeling the nimble hands shake slightly. He gently slides his own hand onto Kenma's back. He stiffens. 

"Relax," Akaashi hushes, intertwining their free hands as he laces his fingers with the smaller man's. Kenma is still stiff, no one has ever touched him so carefully, so docile. He could cry. 

"I'm not a good dancer," Kenma admits quietly. 

"Stop saying things you're not, Kenma." Akaashi looks him in the eyes. "You say you're not good at talking to people. You play videogames with them, you work with them. You say you're not beautiful. Your hair falls into the right places. It's silky. Your eyes are an amber gold. It's mesmerizing. You say you're not a good dancer. You haven't given yourself a chance." 

Akaashi pulls Kenma close to him, their torso almost touch. Almost. He guides him, stepping slowly as if waltzing on broken glass. Kenma was made of glass and if AKaashi made a wrong move, Kenma would shatter into a million little pieces. 

"I gave you a chance." Kenma states almost confidently. He watches his feet and Akaashi's move in sync as they move around the furniture. 

"After I chased you out of the bar and down the street." Akaashi chuckled. He moves his hand that was on Kenma's back to place the shorter man's head against his chest. Kenma feels his heart beating rhythmically with Akaashi's. [What a sensation.] His head can't keep up with his heart. 

"Thanks for doing that." Kenma struggles to find the words he wants to articulate. 

"What do you mean?" Akaashi slides his hand down Kenma's spine, whispering in his ear. 

Kenma shivers. squeezing the blue-eyed man's free hand instinctively. 

"I," Kenma closes his eyes. "I didn't know I needed you to do that for me. I didn't know I needed you. You're this tall, handsome, stranger staring at me. You're cool, talented, and have this weird fixation on me." 

They pad across the floor. "I don't understand why." He finally admits, frustrated, confused, full of hope. "Why me?" 

Akaashi stops and lifts Kenma's chin to look up at him. He holds his light grip but he knows now that Kenma won't shy from him. 

"Why you, you ask?" His voice husky, rich, the same it had always been since the first words. "When I first walked into that bar, you were all I could see in the sea of faces. You intrigued me, not just as an assignment but as a person." 

Akaashi caresses his thumb over Kenma's cheek, a rose flush. "You still do." He observes Kenma's for a reaction, terrified internally but his face is still. 

"You intrigue me, the way you tuck your hair." Akaashi tucks a strand of Kenma's tresses behind his ear. 

"The way you look away when I look at you." He stares into those golden slits. "The way you bite your lip when you're nervous, the way you blush when I compliment you." 

The taller man cups Kenma's face. He so desperately wants to touch him, taste him, tell him how much he loves him. A touch so sweet, so soft, so sensual holding back a storm of pent up sexual urges and unresolved feelings. A touch so delicate, the world would collapse if he crushed his lips to Kenma. 

"Akaashi," Kenma parts his lips to form the name on his tongue. "I think I like you." He realizes, diving into the gunmetal blue of Akaashi's eyes, like an ocean of desire. 

🍂

"Time means nothing, character does." Kenma whispers. "I can feel it. How you look at me, how you ask about me, how you talk to me. How you're here. You could have left, you could be gone by now." 

"You're here." Kenma's voice breaks. His heart is on thin ice. 

"Kenma," Akaashi wipes away a tear that trickled down Kenma's skin. He pulls him into another hug, he can't bring himself to say anything, no words are needed. His embrace is enough. 

He knows. Kenma wraps his arms around Akaashi's waist. All of his worries, insecurities, mistakes, quieted by the touch of another lonely soul. He sniffles. 

"Akaashi," Kenma's face is buried. "I'm here too. I'm here for you. I don't know what to say to make you believe me, but I'm here." His eyes drift closed. 

Akaashi sinks them onto the floor, not letting go. Kenma may not be able to express his sentiments and that's okay because Akaashi already picked up on it when he heard the words. 

The sunlight bathes them in a golden light and the world inside Kenma's mind crumbles to dust. Akaashi is kissing him. His lips brush against his own in hesitation and nervousness. It's a soft press but their entire bodies bloom like wildfires. It's not Kenma's first kiss nor is it Akaashi's, but it's the first kiss that matters. 

The first kiss is shy. The second is tender. The third is breathless. Akaashi pecks at Kenma, stopping only to smile against the other's lips or catch his breath. He looks at him, softly. Kenma looks at him in the same way. 

"No one's ever done that to me before." Kenma's eyes are like a doe's. They're dewy, misty, filled with mysticism. 

"Did you like it? Was it okay?" Akaashi hums, he truly cares about Kenma's wellbeing. 

Kenma manages a nod. He places a soft kiss on Akaashi's cheek. Soft like snowfall. Soft like feathers. A kiss that feels like floating on a cloud being pulled out of the sky. 

The timer dings, the apple pie is ready. And as sweet as it tastes when the two are nibbling at it, the kisses had tasted more sugar-coated. 

_____

Kenma holds on a little longer when he says goodbye to Akaashi. The week had flown by them without them knowing while simultaneously dragging itself out as if it were made just for them. 

Akaashi's suitcase is in the back of his car, his portfolio neatly situated in the glove compartment. The drive to the airport is within thirty minutes and Akaashi knows he has to leave hours earlier to catch his flight. 

At first, no words are exchanged, there is an unspoken sadness. Kenma had known this day would come, he had imagined how he would say goodbye. And now that the moment is here, he can't do it. 

[He was never mine to lose and yet losing him hurts.] Kenma stands in front of Akaashi, shifting his weight onto his left foot. His thoughts are so loud he swears Akaashi can hear them. 

"Kenma," Akaashi starts, taking the smaller man's hands in his. "Thank you. For everything." He smiles kindly.

The latter looks away, he won't let Akaashi see him like this, not like he's being forced to let go of the most important thing that has ever happened to him. And oh, how he is. 

He gives a firm squeeze as a reply to Akaashi who in turn presses a light kiss to his forehead. 

They linger. It's the longest moment and loneliest. Akaashi finally sighs, ready. He lets Kenma's hands slip out of his. 

Kenma watches as Akaashi turns around and walks to the car, opening the door. His gunmetal eyes cross paths one last time before they look down as Akaashi starts the car and drives off. 

He watches the vehicle disappear into the distance, the sun peaking over the horizon.

Kenma opens the door to his apartment. Traces of Akaashi haven't disappeared yet. He still smells his warm vanilla scent. He still sees him playing videogames with him, losing the battle. He still hears his soft laugh as he admits defeat. He still feels his skin against his when they high fived. He still tastes him, his lips crushing against his like tidal waves. 

Now his senses are losing themselves as his world fades back into black and white, back into a bleakness. 

He has a small fracture of hope that maybe Akaashi will turn around and knock on his door. But naturally, he doesn't. He sinks to his knees, crying. 

[Life goes on, after all. This isn't the end, it's just an ending.]

_____

The autumn leaves are beginning to descend from the trees that extend upwards. In various hues, they swirl in the wind and cascade below painting the city in reds, golds, and browns. 

Akaashi is twenty-four now. He's only a bit taller, his hair hasn't changed in years. He wears glasses now. He quit his job at the travel photography magazine a couple of months ago, tired of constant movement, and has already seen the world. Now he's an editor for a different media company. 

He has moved into a new city. It's been developing for years and is comparable in size to New York City. He doesn't recognize it's the same city he met Kenma in all those years ago. He doesn't remember Kenma. Not right away, at least. 

The apartment he buys is actually not so far from the old complex he thinks looks somewhat familiar but he can't place it. After a couple of weeks, he is settled in. 

Kenma somehow manages to take over the company, he's CEO now and that means a lot more work. More time, effort, dedication, more. He thinks it happened around his twenty-third birthday, it's still fuzzy. 

Just as quickly as he had fallen in love with Akaashi, he had fallen out of it. Work and responsibilities distracted him enough until he eventually did forget about him. Yet some part of his deeper mind holds him dear, as well as his heart. 

He doesn't frequent that bar anymore, he doesn't visit the cafe anymore. He doesn't know if his old home is demolished, even though he does have a car of his own now. He just chooses not to know. 

Fate has a funny way of deciding who comes into someone's life but it is that person who decides if they will stay or not. 

🍂

Akaashi closes the door on his way out, grabbing a coat and his briefcase. It's his first day at the new company and though he isn't necessarily excited, he looks forward to the change in career. 

Supposedly, there were rumors about the previous CEO and how he had passed down the company to a successor who was a strange choice. A man with a lack of social skills, a reserved personality, and not the leader type in the slightest. Akaashi doesn't believe in the like of baseless gossip but sure enough, he is proven wrong. 

The main building is expansive, one of those skyscrapers that appears bigger from the outside but the interior is much grander. It's modern and minimalistic. Akaashi doesn't know if that's the theme or just the intended decor. He gives it no further thought. 

Someone at the front desk is on a phone call when he approaches. Waiting politely, she acknowledges him and continues the conversation on the other end of the line. 

"Thank you for waiting, how may I help you, sir?" She chirps. Pretty cheerful for eight in the morning and no coffee in sight. 

"I'm starting a job here, working in the editor's department for news articles." Akaashi pushes his glasses up on his nose. He sounds confident in knowing where he is supposed to be. He's good at faking it. 

"The news-editorial team works on the eighteenth floor. What's your name?" She asks. 

"Akaashi Keiji." He states. The woman types the name in and a profile pops up on the computer monitor. She takes a moment to read his background before talking again. "Wonderful, they're expecting your arrival today along with a couple of others." 

"Thank you, ma'am," Akaashi gives a friendly smile and is about to walk past the receptionist. 

"However," she calls after him. "If you're new then you should probably attend the welcoming ceremony on the tenth floor. It's not mandatory but it's frowned upon to not attend within the first week." She mentions, scribbling on a post-it note. She passes Akaashi the note over the counter. 

"It'll be room 103B and there are complimentary refreshments. They have a ceremony that begins every four hours, so the next one is at noon if you want to go ahead now." She adds before returning to her desk. 

"I appreciate it," he nods. He does. Before he leaves, he asks for the woman's name. 

"Hitoki Yachi. Managerial department." 

🍂

Room 103B is filled with more people than Akaashi had expected. They ranged in height, age, and department teams. He walks over to a small table where muffins and donuts are displayed. As if his stomach knew food was in sight, he gathered a couple of morning pastries on a plate and sits down next to someone. 

He has neat, medium-length dirty-blonde hair, narrow eyes, and an average build. He's reading a book when Akaashi takes a seat beside him. He looks up, mostly because he smells the sweets piled on the plate. 

"Hey," he says greets him casually extending a hand.

"Hello," Akaashi shakes his hand. 

"What department are you in?" The stranger asks, genuinely seeming to take an interest in Akaashi. 

"Editorial. First day." He fiddles with his fingers. 

"Oh really? Same!" There's a wave of relief that washes over the man. "I mean," he clears his throat. "It's also my first day. I work in photography. Name's Konoha Akinori." He adds. 

"Akaashi Keiji, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He responds. 

" 'A pleasure to make your acquaintance?' " Konoha snickers playfully. "Dude, how old are you, you sound like my grandmother." He gently slaps Akaashi's back, startling the latter. Konoha is somewhat touchy-feely, it makes the other feel uncomfortable. 

"I'm twenty-four." Akaashi picks up a muffin. "Twenty-five in December." 

"Woah, seriously?! That means you're like...my junior. I'll be twenty-six in a couple of weeks." 

They don't say anything to each other for a little bit. Idle chatter in the background drowns out when Konoha starts quipping again. "Did you hear about the CEO?" He leans in, lowering his voice so it's barely audible to Akaashi." 

Akaashi swallows a bit of muffin. "The new one or the old one?" He questions in return. 

"The new one. I think the one before him retired, but he was so old and frail. It's good he chose someone young to fill in after him. From what I hear, the new CEO is like...a femme boy? I'm not sure but some people from Manuscript say he's around our age. Wouldn't that be weird, to work for someone who's in your age census?" Konoha rambles on. 

"Rumors are ridiculous." Akaashi shoots back. He doesn't mean for it to sound rude or dismissive, but Konoha takes the defense anyway. 

"Oh, I'm sorry man. I mean yeah, you're right but it's just a thought." He stops talking for a second. 

"You know, actually people who've worked here for years said that this new CEO guy used to be a nobody employee from Design. But now he's always locked in his office or having assistants doing his errands, so they've never seen his face in a long time. Some even claim they've never seen him in person. What do you think he's like?" The dirty blond man is very talkative, and it's not that Akaashi is annoyed by it, but it's a lot of words at once. 

[He's kind of hyper for someone who's going to be in an isolated cubicle for a living. No, wait. He said he works in Photography, he'll probably be moving around a lot then.] 

"Konoha, you're in Photography, right? I used to be a travel photographer in my early twenties. If you'd like, I could give you some tips and pointers." Akaashi offers a friendly smile, one with no ulterior motive. 

"Brooo, really?!?! That's so nice of you to do. Thank you!" He offers a fist bump. Akaashi awkwardly fist bumps him back. 

🍂

The room hushes as the door opens and a mature woman walks in, her heels clicking with authority. She has chin-length black hair and has a mole on the lower left side of her chin. Many of the men watch helplessly as she steps to a podium. Akaashi notes she is wearing a wedding ring. He scoffs. Oh, how he hated how shallow men could be and how women thought they were all the same class of men. 

"Good morning." Her voice is loud, projecting confidence and dominance. Some of the men cower at the volume and power of her tone as she addresses them. 

"Welcome to our company, you are all new here. In this business, we value accountability, integrity, and moral ethics. More commonly, A.I.M. as you will hear around once you acclimate to your departments." She picks up a small remote which turns on a projector in the back of the room. 

"I'll make this direct," she turns to face the wall where the screen is glowing on. Her voice is calm but has control, a strong woman indeed. She carries on, and Akaashi drowns it out though he knows he should be paying attention. 

"...If you need anything, do not hesitate to come to my office on the sixteenth floor. I'm Tanaka Kiyoko. Advertisement." She bows respectfully to everyone in the room. A few people clap. "Now, a word from the CEO before dismissal to your departments." She extends an arm to a wooden double door. 

Murmurs from people all around fill the room, it's clear they've heard rumors too. The CEO strides in, wearing professional work pants and a red hoodie. It's an odd ensemble. He takes his place in front of the podium. 

He's at least 5'11", hair that reaches his shoulders. Most of it is naturally brunet with blind highlights streaking through it. It's all blond near the tips. The back of his hair is tied neatly into. a small bun. He has pale skin, golden-brown eyes shaped like a cat's slits. 

"I think that's him." Konoha leans to his side, whispering. They both know it obviously is. 

Akaashi thinks it's foolish but he has a sense of déjà vu that he's seen this man before. 

"Hey," Kenma greets in a low but bold voice. It's very informal, almost offputting to some of the attendees. He's not what they expected. Could someone so casual and meek hold all the power of this enterprise? 

"I'm not difficult to please, I don't get upset easily, I'm not strict, I'm not someone you'll be afraid to confront. This corporation runs smoothly because we are innovative and inventive." He states, surveying the sea of faces. His public speaking skills have been honed in the last four years. 

He smirks, phrasing a sentence so impending, it sounds like a threat. "But if you ever get boring, I'll drop you." 

Someone coughs awkwardly. Someone else clears their throat. Someone else raises their hand, cautiously. 

Kenma sees the hand and acknowledges the young woman who raised it. "Yes?" His voice is clear, a bit impatient even. 

"Are you..." She tests the waters, her voice meek but can't finish her hunching question. Kenma replies instantly. 

"Kozume, company CEO." He announces. 

Akaashi's eyes widen. [No,] he presumes. 

It is.   
______

Akaashi hates whatever feeling this is that he's experiencing. He also hates what bullshit "initiation ceremony" he and the other employees are being forced to do. Is it really necessary to know everyone's name and occupation? 

"Yaku Morisuke. Photography." "Terushima Yuji. Manuscript." "Konoha Akinori. Photography."

"Akaashi Keiji. Editorial." He recites dryly, holding back a grimace. He looks at Kenma, trying to gauge a reaction. He doesn't find one, or Kenma makes sure that he won't see it. 

The rest of the newcomers also drone on until about fifty people are finished with the orientation. Kiyoko dismisses them all. 

"Aye bro, do you want to have lunch with us?" Konoha pats him on the back and gestures to some short guy named Yaku. "Photography is the twelfth floor." Yaku chimes in, grinning widely. 

Akaashi thinks this sounds like an invitation to hang out after school like back in high school, still, he doesn't really know anyone else yet, Konoha and Yaku seem like a nice company to have. Before he accepts the invitation, someone speaks for him. 

"Hello, gentlemen." It's Kenma. He shakes both of their hands. "I apologize to break up this little reunion but Akaashi will be having lunch with me." He states matter of factly, not looking at the man he just spoke about. 

"Oh, okay, but why?" Konoha is curious and so are the other two. 

"Confidential matters, we had a previous engagement that needs further discussion." Kenma fires back before walking off. 

"Good luck on your first day, Konoha Akinori, Yaku Morisuke. I expect great things from you." 

The door closes, and the three of them stand there before trying to figure out any conclusions. Yaku nudges Akaashi, asking if he knew him from somewhere prior to this day. Akaashi wants to say yes but he can't confirm his suspicions yet. Not until lunch. 

🍂

Taking in an anxious inhale, Akaashi knocks on the door labeled "CEO". He exhales and hears muffled footsteps come closer and a tall, muscular yet lanky man opens the door. That's not him. Akaashi looks up at the security/bodyguard. Wispy silver hair and wintergreen eyes. 

"Name?" He bellows inquisitively. [God, am I going to have to announce it every time I need to get anywhere around here?] He mentally rolls his eyes. 

A stern voice from inside interrupts them. "It's okay Lev. I was expecting him. He can come in, you go take your lunch break." The voice is passive. "Enter," he calls to Akaashi. 

Kenma is working at his desk. Well rather, he's playing a game with the console connected to a computer monitor. He pauses his progress. 

"Please sit." He motions to the chair. 

"Thank you." Akaashi senses a strange familiarity, he knows it. [Why can't I go figure?] It's frustrating him to no end. 

Kenma isn't interested in wasting small talk. Either Akaashi recognizes him or not. Truthfully, Kenma couldn't let the thought of Akaashi go until he had been selected, successor. Some part of his being still stayed with him though. 

"Do you remember me?" Kenma cuts to the chase, his stern voice changing into a soft one, the one Akaashi had always known oh so long ago. 

"I feel like I do, I want to say yes but so much has happened I think I'm wrong," Akaashi replies earnestly. He begins fiddling with his fingers. Some things never change. 

The now mostly brunet sinks his back into the chair. He is quiet for several moments. Akaashi wants to know what he's thinking but that may be overstepping the boundary. Kenma huffs, getting up from his chair. 

He looks wistfully out the window. He's so much older and wiser. Then again, Akaashi probably is too. Aside from the new spectacles on his face, his physical appearance hasn't changed over all this time. 

Kenma turns around, his eyes tracing along with Akaashi's figure. His back is still broad. His nape is still covered in those jet-black tufts. His hands are large, he fiddles with them. And those eyes. Still as bright, piercing, penetrating. Just as they had always been. 

"Do you remember anything?" Kenma tests him, his voice calm taking in all of Akaashi once again. 

"I've heard the name Kozume before, a long time ago. I remember meeting this guy in a bar and-" He stops talking. 

A silence falls on the two of them. Memories overwhelm Akaashi's mind while sentiments he had pent up and though he had disregarded pounded in his heartbeat. Blood rush, rose flush, a fool's first real love. 

He remembers firsts. 

Kenma had been the first person he told about his mother. The one he told his travel stories to. The one he sat on the couch and asked questions together. The one he baked an apple pie with, waltzing in the living room while they waited. 

He remembers times.

When they cleaned Kenma's apartment the first night. When they visited the old house the second night. When they kissed the third night. When they said goodbye the final night. 

He remembers feelings. 

The silent but strong urges of wanting to take Kenma into the street and make out in front of anyone who could see. Of holding him in the dark, quieting his fears with the touch of a hand. Of waking up to see the stilled breathing of the person he held onto so dearly for so little. 

It dawns on Akaashi and when it does he feels immensely guilty. He lets the tears fall. 

"It's you. Kozume Kenma, it's you." He sobs into his hands. "How could I have not known? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Something heaves in his chest. Regret? Longing? Despair? Hope? All these years had passed and they found each other again. 

Fate was cruel to do that. 

Kenma shushes Akaashi with a brush of his hand, taking it into his. It's the same docile touch. He missed the comfort and the security that the taller man had temporarily given him. 

"Hi," Kenma places a soft kiss on Akaashi's hair. It has a new scent. The scent of being homesick for a place that doesn't exist. A place where his heart is full and his soul is understood. 

Oh, but it does exist, in the form of Akaashi Keiji. After all, home is not a place. It's a feeling. If this is the case, then both Kenma and Akaashi have been homeless for too long. 

"Hey," Akaashi clutches the red hem of Kenma's hoodie, smiling up. He extends his hand to stroke Kenma's cheek. "Can we start over?" His eyes plea more than any words he could use. 

"We already have." Kenma places one of his hands on Akaashi's, taking the other to intertwine their fingers, skin pressed so deeply, no space could fit between. 

It's a particularly chilly autumn day in mid-September. And so they begin again. 

🍂

Akaashi's life has changed for the better in the course of a month. His colleagues are witty, efficient, and diligent people he works well with. He enjoys his lunch breaks and some drinking nights out with his new group of friends from a couple of different departments. He's on friendly terms with Yachi, greeting her every morning and occasionally bringing her a coffee from the vending machine. His communication skills have improved because of this. 

If anything over everything, he has a new boyfriend. They've been going out for a couple of weeks and rumors, as they do, start spreading around the company. This time Akaashi doesn't mind because it's true. 

"Is it true? The CEO is dating some employee from Editorial?"

"I heard they used to know each other a long time ago, what do you think happened?"

"Kozume doesn't seem to be the gay type but it's not bad. His feminine features make up for it. Akaashi, I think that's his name, makes up for it for both of them." 

Kenma is well aware of being the center of attention and had he still had the mindset as a child, he'd blow raspberries at them and stick his tongue out. Professionally, he could fire them. That's low and petty, and Kenma knows that's not a valid reason to cut someone's salary. He's also not the type to let things like that get the best of him. 

"Kenma, when's your birthday?" Akaashi asks him one day. He never did find out the exact date. 

"It's the sixteenth." Kenma replies, writing an email to a partnership organization.

"Can I take you on a date? A real one?" The 6'4" man peeks over the desk, resting an arm on the wifi box. 

"I don't care for fancy dates, Keiji," Kenma says. He's a homebody and it shows. Akaashi understands. 

It's a kind gesture but he doesn't want Akaashi to spend money on him like that. His birthday isn't a big deal anyway, just the day the universe decided to bring him into the world. Nothing special. 

"Then how about a quiet night at home, I'll cook anything you'd like and we can play videogames," Akaashi suggests, his eyes glitter with affection for his older boyfriend. 

"You're on," Kenma looks up from his email to smirk. "I'll beat your ass at Mario Kart."

Akaashi chuckles lightly, breathing lightly. "You always do, babe." 

_____ 

Every year the company plans Kenma a surprise party, which ironically has been consistent enough that it's inevitably not a surprise anymore around this time of year. He will be twenty-nine years old. 

Akaashi hasn't moved in with Kenma. Konoha and Yaku are puzzled by this so they decide to poke at their junior until he gives in. We're not ready yet, Akaashi answers with a placid expression. Obviously, his older friends don't believe him. 

They want to take things slow, to not rush into this relationship. Skeptics say they're running out of time. Friends try to push them to go further. Colleagues wonder if they will get married. 

[What the hell, this isn't The Titanic or Romeo & Juliet. They need to mind their own.] Akaashi sighs annoyed. [Maybe I'm too hard on them, this is probably the most interesting thing to happen considering most of them barely know Kenma.] 

Akaashi then wonders if he barely knows Kenma too. The thought clenches his gut, analyzing what people are assuming. [Are we moving too slowly? There's no rush, really, it's not as if we're planning to get married-] he stops his train of thought. God knows had he continued it, he'd be spiraling into an endless pit of every scenario gone wrong possible. 

Right now, he's content and wants things to stay the way they are. Right now the opinions and talk of the mindless employees shouldn't matter. Akaashi decided they don't, they won't. 

🍂

When the day comes, it feels like today'll be another brisk and bright day when the sun will shine but the wind snaps at any exposed skin. Deceptive. Though it's currently dark and cool as Akaashi passes the park between his and Kenma's apartment. It is quiet, no children are playing innocently. 

He knocks on the door, waiting patiently. Konoha had suggested that he should get a copy key card. Akaashi frowned upon the idea of invading someone's privacy without their permission. 

"Dude, you're going out. It's not like breaking-and-entering." The older had joked. Akaashi didn't find it funny in the slightest. 

The door clicks and Kenma opens it ajar. "Hi," he says plainly. He motions his boyfriend in, rubbing a towel to his wet hair, wearing a black hoodie. 

"Good morning," he steps in and places a chaste "hello" kiss on Kenma's cheek. They've gotten more affectionate recently and though Kenma refuses to own up to it, he enjoys the constant attention. "Did you sleep well?" Akaashi leans against the countertop, making idle pleasantries. 

"You know the answer to that," Kenma combs his hair out with his fingers, a bit disgruntled. 

Akaashi does know. He sighs slowly and replies in a smooth voice. "You'll sleep well tonight. I promise." 

"I never sleep well." Kenma is agitated, trying not to take it out on his lover.

"My insomnia is getting worse as I get older. I'm stressed out, Keiji." He finally admits, not realizing how much he bottled in. Running a company is a laborious job and having a relationship atop of it adds a bit more pressure to be perfect. 

It goes without saying that Akaashi senses the anxiety Kenma is experiencing, doing his best to alleviate any discomfort Kenma feels. He sets aside his own needs, which doesn't make Kenma feel much better. The shorter one feels selfish and hates having to put his boyfriend second when he in turn has always put him first. 

Sometimes Akaashi thinks they should try again another time. He cringes inwardly at the thought of it. It took four years for them to meet all over again, and they're aging into the next decade of their lives. Another time isn't what they need. They need here and now.

[What we need is proper time management.] Akaashi scoffs mentally, furrowing his brow when Kenma isn't looking.

🍂

Pushing his weight off against the granite counters, Akaashi strides to Kenma's side, taking his hand in his. He leads him to the sofa, and motions for him to cuddle for a few minutes before going to work. Kenma slides between Akaashi's legs, pressing his back gently against the other's chest. He feels the steady rise and fall of his boyfriend's breathing, his heartbeat dancing above the ribcage. 

Akaashi wraps his arms around his little spoon. They watch the sunrise in comfortable silence. 

"Do you want me to braid your hair into a little bun?" Kenma can feel Akaashi's warm breath on his ears. He gives an affirmative reply. 

"Keiji," Kenma's eyes follow the birds that are flying by them. 

"Hm?" Akaashi hums quietly as he plays with the cocoa-colored locks, weaving them into a braid across the back of Kenma's scalp. 

"When you drove off that day, did you- did you ever think of me afterward?" Kenma's eyes are cast down, his voice low. It's something he's been dying to ask without sounding too conceited or needy. He doesn't know what to expect when Akaashi answers him. Still, he braces himself. 

"For a couple of months, yes." He says quietly. "After some time, it was just painful wishful thinking that I could come back." 

Kenma is silent. He's processing the words that somehow don't make sense to him. Did that mean that maybe, just maybe Akaashi had been hurt by leaving just as much as Kenma had been left? How many restless nights did he cry himself to sleep? Seeing his mirage in flashing moments? Feeling an emptiness that only the other could fill? Did Akaashi have that grief also? 

"Oh," Kenma's lips are dry as his response. He doesn't know how else to articulate his emotions at the moment. 

"Why do you ask about that," Akaashi ties the bun in, tucking in loose strands. 

"I remember how lonely I was when you were gone. How much I had felt safe and secure with you around. My world had finally meant something to me. So when you went away, I held onto whatever piece of you I could for as long as two years." 

Kenma reaches into the pocket of the hoodie and pulls out a crumpled card. The print on it is so faded, the words almost invisible. Akaashi doesn't have to ask to know what it is. He gingerly places a hand on top of Kenma's hand holding the fragile slip of paper. 

"I didn't know you had kept this," his voice nostalgic. He could cry, remembering the first time Kenma had shoved it carelessly into his coat pocket. 

Kenma chuckles softly, "How could I not? It's the second most important thing you'd given me." He feels tears well up, and he can't help but let them stream casually down the sides of his face. 

"Second?" Akaashi breathes, meeting eyes with Kenma's. They're inviting, beckoning, still flecked with amber, secrets, and the brightness of a thousand stars. 

🍂

"Yes, after this," Kenma turns around to face him. He cups Akaashi's gorgeous frame into his small hands. He kisses him, passionately. A kiss of longing that's been holding itself back and is finally pouring out like a gold rush. A kiss so desperate, so passionate that the two forget it's only seven in the morning. 

Kenma slides his fingers into the black curls tucked behind Akaashi's ear. Akaashi presses his hands into Kenma's back, pulling him in so close that their bodies curve into each other. They don't stop for several minutes. Eventually, they break and gasp for air. More. 

Time won't allow that because they, like the rest of society, have to contribute to slaving away in a rigged economic system. Akaashi kisses Kenma once more, smiling into it. He whispers, feeling the other trying to breathe evenly. "We'll finish this later." 

He stands up from the couch, extending a hand for Kenma, a devilish smirk on his usually expressionless face. 

Kenma catches a flick of lust in those enigmatic gunmetal eyes. Something else is there too. He smiles, placing a careless hand into Akaashi's letting him sweep him off the sofa with such effortless grace. 

The day has barely begun as the two men walk out onto the street glowing with daylight wishing it would already give in to the velvet of nightfall. 

_____ 

Work had been relatively chaotic today. More so than usual. Yaku and Konoha had managed to oversee things smoothly in Photography despite almost engulfing one cubicle in flames. 

Kenma was used to customary greetings but with it being "a special occasion" and all, the entire enterprise was livelier than he had ever noticed or paid attention to note. As much as he complained about his daily tasks, he really did take pride in the company, grateful for every employee, from managerial positions to janitorial staff. 

The day itself seemed to move at a pace slower than a snail stuck in molasses. Every second felt like centuries, every minute like millennia. The universe was torturing Kenma but it would be torturing him in another way, by another source. 

Riding home with Akaashi in the same Porsche, he intertwines his hand with the latter's free hand. "Y'know," he mentions.

"I finally learned how to drive and bought a car." He says, surprisingly proud of himself. He's happy to be alone with Akaashi after being dragged around all day with meetings and conferences and endless phone calls. 

Akaashi almost slams the brakes. "Wait, when did this happen?" He raises a brow, a subtle sign of a shocked reaction. 

"Around when I was twenty-three, the same time I was given the business. The CEO before me said I would be given one in the company's name but I'd have to pay for maintenance and stuff. So I learned how to drive in order to use it." 

Kenma squeezes Akaashi's gently. "Isn't that great?" 

"Darling, that's wonderful but why didn't you tell me earlier? You could have driven to work." Akaashi points out. 

"But if I had done that, I wouldn't get to ride passenger seat with you." Kenma blushes. Sometimes when they ride in silence, it's a comforting one. They don't have to speak, they don't talk to enjoy one another's presence. 

"What kind of car did they give you?" Akaashi shakes his head playfully. He steals a glance at Kenma who returns a coil smile. 

"Maserati." He quips. 

"For fucks sake," Akaashi laughs in disbelief as he pulls his car into the parking garage. 

🍂 

Akaashi locks Kenma in the guest bathroom with his PSP. He doesn't explain it but Kenma would file this under kidnapping even in his own home. He didn't see an alternative to keep him occupied while he begins decorating the bedroom. 

"How long do you plan to hold me hostage in here?" Kenma's voice echoes from behind the wooden door. 

"Be patient and play your video game," Akaashi instructs him. Having nothing else to do, Kenma slouches in the bathtub and turns on his console. At least it's on a full charge. 

A while back, Akaashi had traded his lunch break to acquire room ornaments, romantic things to commemorate the evening he and Kenma would share. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He did his research and even gone to the lengths to watch those videos about how to go about it. 

To start with, he fastens strings of lights shaped like little cats across the windows, closing the curtains. Next, he arranges the silver blown up balloons above the bed frame. They spell out "Happy Birthday Kenma." He walks to the closet and takes out a box hidden by long overcoats. 

In the box are polaroids Akaashi had asked Konoha and Yaku to discreetly snap of Kenma. A couple of times, he asked Lev who was over the moon about the request. They had taken twenty-nine photos in total. Akaashi then had proceeded to write twenty-five things he loved about Kenma on the flipside of each photo. He could write a list eternally. 

He clipped each polaroid with a clothespin to soft gold led lights and strung it on the bed in the shape of a heart. He places a basket filled with a new game, customized mouse pad, and stylus in the center of it. He places two glasses and a bottle of wine on the nightstand. 

Though it's cliche, Akaashi had bought red paper hearts and faux rose petals. He sprinkled them across the bedroom floor, turning the heat on low, careful that the pieces wouldn't scatter unevenly. He lights a couple of candles, spritzes the room in a sweet perfume that isn't too intoxicating. After rummaging through the supply closet, he finds a radio and puts in a cassette of ambient mood music. Finally, he turns the light off to admire the sight before him. The entire process had taken longer than he expected but he doesn't care. The room appeals to every sense, or so Akaashi hopes it will for Kenma. 

[For Kenma.] 

He moves to the master bathroom and changes into a clean suit, one that he had asked Yachi to help pick out for him. He combs out his hair, brushes his teeth, and looks at his reflection. His hands are shaking, his mind is racing. For so long, he has waited. Now that it's actually going to happen, he's not sure what to do. 

That's the funny thing about imagination and reality. They never go hand in hand with expectations. 

Akaashi inhales through his nose slowly, exhaling through his mouth deeply. [Let's do this.]

_____ 

{⚠️NSFW⚠️ This is my first shot at writing a spicy scene so it's probably not good but I hope it's good enough for an amateur like myself. Enjoy!}

"Kenma," Akaashi knocks lightly on the door. "I'm ready, close your eyes," his voice is now smoky. He unlocks the door and Kenma is sitting on the bathmat, eyes fluttered shut. Akaashi takes the console from Kenma's grasp and places it on the counter. He leads him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

Kenma lightly scrunches his nose. "Keiji, are you wearing perfume?" He grips his hand, feeling his way through the dark hall. He hears faint music.

"Maybe," Akaashi says. He stops and lets go of Kenma's hand. "Don't look yet," he tells him. He moves to the side of the bed, standing up straight. He bites his lip in hesitation before breathing life into the next three words.

"Open your eyes."

Kenma slowly adjusts his vision to everything around him. He can help but drop his mouth open in enchantment and wonder. His eyes glimmer, reflecting the candles, led lights, and moonlight that slips through the curtains.

"Keiji," he moves toward him. He takes note of every little thing. The flowers. The cat lights. The polaroids, balloons, wine, basket. Best of all, Akaashi is standing in front of him with the most kindred spark igniting in his eyes. Intense, passionate, wild. A ravenous desire. A vulnerable flicker. A faithful gleam.

"Do you like it," he asks huskily, not once taking his gaze off Kenma.

"I can't believe you did all this..." Kenma feels like his eyes are burning. Tears blur his vision. He chokes on words, covering his mouth with a hand.

"For you. I did this for you." Akaashi's voice melts Kenma. The taller male's attentive watch follow Kenma's lips movement.

"May I?" Akaashi's tone is suddenly possessive. He picks up Kenma and seats him on the edge of the bed.

"You may." Kenma's lips connect to Akaashi's, he places his hands on the other's waist. Akaashi doesn't tense up. Kenma lets him take the lead, after all, he is the one receiving such lavish attention.

They kiss deeply, messily and before too much time has passed, Kenma's cheeks are painted a crimson blush. He presses his forehead to Akaashi's, talking as they crash into another rough kiss.

🍂

"More," he demands, startled by his own assertion. [More.]

So Akaashi presses further, asking for entrance into Kenma's mouth to which he obliges immediately. Without breaking the kiss, Akaashi reaches for the basket and places it at the foot of the bed.

He loves how Kenma tastes. He's never had much of a sweet tooth, but Kenma looking this dissolved before he had shed any article of clothing is so sweet he feels his nether region grow hard. He tastes like sugar, cinnamon, honey, candy he wants to suck on until the flavor is gone.

He lays Kenma down on his back, exploring every inch of his mouth with his tongue. He feels Kenma's swirling with his, producing saliva as they break for air. Kenma's eyes are glazed in a luster, already overcome by euphoria.

"You're so pretty, Keiji." Kenma reaches to pull his arms around Akaashi's neck. "Here," he rubs circles in his hair at the nape. "Here," he combs through a curl of hair. "Here," he traces the earlobe next. "Here," he strokes the cheekbones. "Here," he brushes the bridge of the nose. "Here," he swipes his thumb over the lips. "And...here, here is my favorite." Kenma touches the area beside the eye, losing himself in those eyes. Metaphorically, an ocean, a breezy field, the sea of open stars floating in a little world of their own in Akaashi's irises.

"I'm supposed to be making you feel special." Akaashi pouts playfully, his voice thick with tenderness and the starvation of a carnivore.

"You do, you do so much for me, I couldn't ever repay you." Kenma can't peel his eyes away, he's entranced in all of Akaashi's magnetism. In all of Akaashi.

"Shhh, you can repay me now by letting me experience you." He pauses. Nervously, he retaliates. 

"What's wrong," Kenma detects the sudden shift in energy.

"I'm not certain if you want to do this. I don't want to hurt you," he stops. "Again." He's still hovering on top of Kenma, shaking.

"Keiji," Kenma pulls him closer, quieting Akaashi's fear with a touch. "I'm certain." He hangs his head back, exposing the skin on his neck, collarbones, shoulders. Kenma has never been so sure of anything in his life.

He wants Akaashi to absolutely ruin him, leaving him in shatters of sobs to collect and piece together like an imperfect mosaic. He wants Akaashi to fuck him senseless, to feel every part of him inside him. And Kenma wants this more than anything else in the world.

Akaashi places a gentle kiss on Kenma's hand. "What's your safe word?" he asks, genuinely concerned. As much as he tries to restrain himself, his self-control is dissolving into nothingness with each passing moment. He doesn't want to care about the minuscule details of safety, but just as he could break Kenma physically, he could break him emotionally. He won't risk that.

"Yellow." Kenma whimpers.

"Okay," Akaashi chuckles.

🍂

Foreplay is crucial before any penetrative sex, and Akaashi chooses to tease Kenma by taking his time taking him in. He peppers a kiss on Kenma's neck, sucking at the skin. One hand is clasped with the squirming mess underneath him. The other hand slides itself under Kenma's shirt. He plays with the nipple, a gasp of pleasure escapes under him.

Kenma, already feeling his skin being lit on fire, grips Akaashi's hair, moaning.

"Babe, I haven't done anything yet." Akaashi trails down the neck.

"Keiji, I haven't been touched since you." Kenma arches his back, shamelessly.

At this comment, Akaashi bites into a particularly soft spot. [No wonder he's so antsy then.] That won't change the fact that Akaashi plans to tease and taunt him to no ends until he's hopelessly, helplessly begging.

Hickies are painted onto Kenma's throat, neck, and collar bone. Akaashi drags his fingertips along Kenma's stomach, ribs, chest. He does this for some time, feeling every heave and rattle of the body. His voice is sultry, hot, whispering sweet nothings into Kenma's ears.

Kenma doesn't remember exactly when Akaashi had undressed him and marveled at his slender figure. The cool air hit his skin like an ice storm. The fire spreading in his lower places began to disperse itself, coursing through his veins. Akaashi spent minutes drawing circles in the skin on various parts of the body. Between thighs, below nipples, around the ankles, in the crook of elbows. Akaashi takes his time memorizing every detail of Kenma.

On the other hand, Kenma's aching, sexually frustrated as to why Akaashi is being, well, slow. He has him forevermore, to explore and paw at every nerve ending. Maybe, because it's the first time. Maybe because it's his birthday, whatever the reason is, it's driving Kenma insane. Just insane.

"How are you doing, honey?" Akaashi traces a circle around the base of Kenma's member, kissing the tip of it with a light feather touch.

"Please, just...fuck me." Kenma groans.

"That doesn't answer my question," Akaashi says sternly, completely overcome by lust now. He claws at Kenma's thighs.

"I-I'm not going to make it," Kenma whines.

"Yes, you are." Akaashi licks the palm of his hand, coating it in saliva. Without warning, he fondles Kenma's dick, rubbing it slowly, then picking up pace. Eventually, it's slick enough with spit that Akaashi snuggles himself between the thighs. He grips Kenma's waist, causing the other to buck them involuntarily.

"Not yet, sweetheart." Akaashi heeds no warning when he takes in Kenma's dick into his mouth. He's bigger than he imagined, but Akaashi loves it nonetheless. His tongue is hot, wet, and rough. Kenma loves it.

"Did you just give me a blowjob?" Kenma asks, knowing it's a stupid thing to ask the obvious.

"It won't be the last, kitten." Akaashi straddles Kenma's hips. "Baby, can we try something?"

"Like?" Kenma tilts his head.

"Turn over, is it okay if I finger you? Would you like that?" Akaashi's long eyelashes sweep across his half-lidded eyes.

"Yes but then I won't be able to see you," Kenma admits shyly.

"You'll feel me, you'll hear me. I'm not going anywhere, Kenma." He reassures him. They both know he's referring to something other than the sex at the moment. It brings Kenma's comfort.

Kenma bites the skin inside his cheek and flips over anyway. He closes his eyes, sinking into the pillows. Akaashi leans over, opening the bedside drawer. The small tube needs no explanation.

Akaashi coats his fingers in the lube and sets it aside. "It's going to be cold, it's going to sting, and it's going to hurt a little."

A lie, it's going to hurt a lot.

Kenma says nothing, he just nods, arching his back in response. Akaashi takes a deep breath in and inserts a finger slowly. The pain is uncomfortable for Kenma, but as Akaashi inserts a second and third finger, the pain switches to pleasure. Akaashi stretches his walls out nicely, being careful.

The brunet muffles his screams into the cushions, shivering. He's tight, it feels ecstatic, and Akaashi is doing this so naturally, hushing him, kissing his shoulders, his hips, up and down his back.

Not enough. More.

More. Akaashi curls three fingers inside of Kenma, rewarding with whines and whimpers.

More. Kenma throws his head back, completely losing himself to Akaashi's whim and wish.

More. Akaashi tears the corner of a condom. He presses his already hard member against Kenma's ass. The shorter man tries to suppress a moan, ultimately failing.

More. Akaashi slips into Kenma, like a lock and key. It takes a while to find a rhythm that puts them at ease but once they do, they are reckless, restless.

More. Kenma screams Akaashi's name, not caring who hears them, not caring that's forgetting his manners every time Akaashi pulses within him. He's pushing his dick in so deep, Kenma feels it in his stomach.

More. Kenma's head can't keep up with his heart, his body having at every small move Akaashi makes. His senses altered, disoriented. All he knows is Akaashi. And that's all he wants to.

More. Kenma cries out in agony and relief, finally cumming as Akaashi pulls out his throbbing cock slowly. Torturous, Kenma thinks. So torturous, the hell of it fell apart, transforming into heaven.

It's more than enough.

🍂

"This is a photo from when you fell asleep signing contracts for partnerships." Akaashi points to the string of photo lights." They are cuddling, drinking the wine from the bedside.

Kenma laughs, his boyfriend is so dorky. The time and energy he had to put all this together truly goes beyond the sun, moon, stars. All for him, he remembers. He can't help but smile.

Their after sex kisses are slow, lazy, and clumsy. It's okay that they are.

Akaashi doesn't ask for Kenma's opinion on the matter. Kenma's kisses and facial expressions say exactly what Akaashi needs to know.

"Hey Kenma," Akaashi hums, taking a sip of the deep red liquid, leaving his lips a distinct color.

"Yeah, Keiji?" Kenma rests his head on his lover's shoulder, his voice drained from the symphony of sounds he didn't know he could make.

"I love you."

The world is quiet. It takes both Akaashi and Kenma to realize that they had never exchanged those words before. Not once then, and not once before now.

But things like that can change. Kenma's eyes are misty, and he exhales, filled with peace.

"I love you, Akaashi Keiji."

_____ 

If someone had told nineteen-year-old Kenma that a year later he would fall in love with some stranger in a week, he would've shot down the idea immediately. Who could give him that false security and blind faith? 

If someone had told him at twenty-five that they would be reunited finally, he would've rolled his eyes. Who could have ripped his heart in the cruelest, kindest ways of grief imaginable? 

If someone tells him now that Akaashi makes him so so loved, he would believe it. For the rest of his life. 

Through all the damage, fire, and friction. Here. 

It's five years later when the couple decides to buy a new place together, close to the outskirts of town where they can work in the city and visit the suburbs on the weekends. It's a two-bedroom townhouse with a garnet-colored rooftop. Warm, new, a fresh page to create memories and make the house a home.

One day, Akaashi walks into the foyer setting down a sturdy box labeled "Appliances." He wipes a drop of sweat from his brow and opens the windows to the street view. The summer heat is miserable in August but with the new a/c system being installed soon, they'll only have to endure just a little longer. 

Kenma shuffles into the doorframe, bumping into the wall. His face is covered by a cardboard box with all sorts of chords and wires poking out of it. He tosses it on the couch and walks over to the window, slipping his finger's between Akaashi's. 

Most of his hair is a chestnut color, perhaps worn-out leather. The roots are growing out and the blond has faded out almost entirely. He hasn't been a natural brunet since he was fifteen. 

"It'll be cool soon, September is on its way." Kenma notes. 

"Mm," Akaashi replies, his mind on another subject matter. 

"What are you thinking about?" Kenma moves in front of him perching up on the window sill, not letting go of his lover's hand. 

"Just thinking about us." Akaashi blinks, lowering his focus on Kenma's eyes. 

"Such as?" His eyes seem to dance mischievously, magically. 

"My whole life, I've always been moving around, going somewhere, and every new place felt emptier than the last. Like, I've never had a real place to call my own."

"What do you mean," Kenma tilts his head, just barely to block the sunlight from blinding his boyfriend's eyes. 

Akaashi smiles, leaning into to kiss the brunet man, words tumbling into the kiss like a seed that will grow inside of Kenma's heart. 

"With you, I am home." 

🍂   
_____

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I hope you liked it for passing time, loving a rare pair, wanting something bittersweet. Inspiration from many song lyrics and endless daydreams. again huge shoutout to my twitter akaken twin. toodaloo~ <3 joy


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